


Paris

by queenoftheiceandsnow



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Drabble, F/M, this is so dumb but hEYYYYY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:59:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenoftheiceandsnow/pseuds/queenoftheiceandsnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just wanted to see if I could write them in-character??</p>
    </blockquote>





	Paris

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to see if I could write them in-character??

"It's _seriously_ troubling that you've had hundreds of years of practice and still get us into these kinds of situations."

"Technically, _you're_ the one who got us into this situation."

Clara jabbed him sharply in the ribs with a magnificently pointy elbow and the Doctor gave her an affronted look, those impressively angry eyebrows drawing together.

"Don't start!" she hissed in a whisper, advancing on him enough to make him shy away in case she utilized her elbow again. "I'm not going to remind you why you can't blame me for this."

Honestly, she should have been used to it at that point, but she'd been having a rather tiring day. The Doctor had promised her one trip where she wouldn't have to worry about daleks, or monsters, or any life-threatening situations, and it had absolutely been too good to be true. Of course she should have expected him to manage to find something dangerous and difficult, even in Paris in 1860. Automatons in Louis III's court. Only the Doctor would manage to find that. And to make matters even worse, there was a woman in the court known by the name Claretta, which hadn't seemed like a bad thing until the Doctor announced that she was the spitting imagine of Clara.

The fact that her echoes usually accompanied life or death situations was unsettling for Clara, and that led to them sneaking about in the dark hallways while the occupants of the palace were nowhere to be seen, hopefully to avoid incident as they tried to find the one responsible for the automatons. Clara could still faintly hear the music from the ballroom, floating through the air and making her almost wish they'd stuck around for the party.

"Could've been flesh-eating monsters," the Doctor pointed out as he raised a hand to stop her, peering around the corner. "Would you have preferred that?"

"You're not shut away all day so that you can't accidentally run into yourself."

"That doesn't answer the question, but by all means, continue to whine."

Clara jabbed him hard in the ribs.

"One more word, and I'm going to jab you somewhere else."

"Well, you've already done that, haven't y- _alright!_ "

"If you weren't so completely useless, we wouldn't even be in this mess in the first pl-" Clara was cut off as the Doctor covered her mouth with his hand, shushing her. She scowled up at him, shoving his hand away and squinting into the darkness. "What?"

"Listen."

Footsteps. Oh, dear, footsteps were never good. The Doctor made a sound that was a bit like the air being let out of a pinched balloon, and that was even worse. "What, who is it?" Clara whispered, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention.

He turned to face her, grimacing and glancing repeatedly over his shoulder. "Well, it's you, isn't it? It's a piece of you, a part of you, your consciousness, sent into this time period to prevent something bad from happening because you're such a bossy-"

"It's Claretta."

"Yes."

"Oh, good, I can warn her to stay away from you forever and ever-"

"-that would be _completely_ pointless-"

"-hopefully she won't end up trailing around on stupid trips like this-"

"-if they're so stupid why don't you just-"

"-arguing with an alien who can't pull his head out of his own-"

"-Clara she's going to recognize you-"

"- _yes thank you for that Doctor_ -"

"No, Clara, she is going to recognize you. There's nowhere to hide."

Clara cut herself off mid profanity, eyes wide. Oh. She looked wildly around them, up and down the corridor, a rising panic in her chest. Nowhere to go. No doors, no windows, not even a curtain or tapestry to hide behind. "Doctor, she can't see me."

"I _know_ that. What do you propose we do?"

"I don't know!"

"Can't believe I've got to do this."

"Do what?"

"Nothing, hold still."

Next thing she knew, he'd caught her around the waist, lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and he was kissing her. She all but froze entirely, completely rigid in her shock, hands raised to reflexively shove him in the chest. But, then... It was a rather good plan. Claretta wouldn't likely spend too much time looking at a woman who was busy snogging a man in a dark corridor. Her heart was hammering beneath her ribs, and she could feel that neither of his had even sped up.

Clara slipped a hand inside his coat, sliding smoothly against the red silk lining, and pulled herself closer. She was satisfied when his hearts gave a little jump at the contact, and she almost smiled before she reminded herself he would be able to tell if she did. She was struck suddenly by how _weird_ this should be, how she should be wanting nothing more than for it to end, but she really, really... Didn't. The Doctor was surprisingly good at kissing. No flailing, no awkwardness. Gentle, but firm, passionate enough to make it convincing, his fingers threading through the curls at the nape of her neck and making goosebumps scatter across her skin. Those footsteps came even closer, and Clara would have flinched if she wasn't so busy trying not to get too carried away. The footsteps came to a stumbling halt and there was a little flustered gasp.

_"Oh! Je suis tellement désolé, ne excusez-moi!"_

The footsteps hurried onward down the corridor, and neither one of them wanted to pull away, even when Claretta was gone. They were lingering, and lingering was never ever a good idea, but they couldn't seem to help it. His heartbeats were thumping quickly beneath her hand, and her cheeks were so warm she felt light-headed, and, God, she didn't think she'd ever felt so weak in the knees in her entire life and then all she knew was the Doctor was pulling slowly away, and that was enough for her to blink her eyes open, taking a shivering breath as she dropped her hands and pressed her lips into a firm line, frowning to herself as he took a stiff, awkward step back.

"There, you're fine. Happy?" He was looking at her with the closest thing to fire she'd ever seen in his scary new eyes, and she liked the look of it.

Clara cleared her throat, and nodded. "Yes. Very- Very good. Right."

They considered each other for a moment of tense silence, before the Doctor abruptly turned and started off down the corridor at a hurried pace, leaving her breathless and flushed as she rested briefly against the wall.

Yeah.

She liked their trip to Paris.


End file.
